


never looking back.

by ohmaggies



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous Knowledge of Star Wars, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, F/M, Reunions, Slow Burn, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:48:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26206693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmaggies/pseuds/ohmaggies
Summary: "I've been thinking about settling down somewhere," you start, closing your eyes to avoid seeing him and having to imagine what expression he's wearing. "Not for a family but… stability, a place I can show my face and not feel suffocated from being seen.""Is that an invitation?" he says, his attention focused in the distance when you look at him, cautiously. Your hood curves over your forehead and blocks your upper view but you see him, same as always."Not for a Mandalorian," you sigh, voice tight with implications.
Relationships: The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Reader, The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/You
Comments: 5
Kudos: 26





	never looking back.

**Author's Note:**

> hello!! this is essentially a 'reader and mando split amicably as friends, then meet each other again many years later' fic, with the reunion taking place post season 1 and them having known each other 6 years prior to the show's timeline. thanks for clicking on this and thanks for reading it, if you are! 💙

You flex your fingers, admiring the soft cracks forming in your old, leathery gloves. They're well beyond repair and practically begging for a break, much like your own aging bones. You're young, but each passing moment on different planets rubs the life you wish you could have in your face; always taunting, always painful to look sideways at your companion and know a future exists without him. 

Beside you, the Mandalorian absentmindedly plays with something secure in his practiced hands, the same ones you've watched end dozens of lives and react with reflexes beyond that of a regular human.

Still, he is just a man. You know that much, and before this man, you never had dreams of your own. Everyone you once knew is long gone, either dead or chasing impossible what-if's, and those what-if's weren't things you had time for mere months ago. Now, gazing upon the man you've come to know as your only friend, those what-if's contain multitudes of him, impossible multitudes.

Your fingers, once again, flex in your gloves, and you rest your head back, aware of Mando's helmet turning ever so slightly towards you. "I've been thinking about settling down somewhere," you start, closing your eyes to avoid seeing him and having to imagine what expression he's wearing. "Not for a family but… stability, a place I can show my face and not feel suffocated from being seen."

"Is that an invitation?" he says, his attention focused in the distance when you look at him, cautiously. Your hood curves over your forehead and blocks your upper view but you see him, same as always.

"Not for a Mandalorian," you sigh, voice tight with implications, and you lean forward slowly. Your hand settles on his back for a moment before returning to your lap to fiddle with the cracked material of your gloves. "Maybe if- well, maybe if things were different, Lori." 

"But they're not," he pauses, and you look at your own reflection in his helmet, wondering the kind of expression he wears beneath it. "I'm a Mandalorian and a bounty hunter."

You turn away from him, admiring the sand dunes of this planet before reluctantly dragging your eyes away from the sunrise. Mando's waiting for you to say something - anything - yet the words don't quite want to come. Instead, you reach over and press your palm to the smooth exterior of his helmet, listening to the soft exhale he releases, so gentle your ears have to strain to hear it.

"It wasn't an invitation, Mando," you admit. "I wanted you to know I'm leaving, as soon as we turn in this bounty I'll take my luck on a planet of your choosing and, I don't know. I haven't thought that far." His breathing is gentle static beside you. "If you weren't a Mandalorian, maybe I'd ask you to join me, you know. But I think part of me would want you to say no."

"You'd want me to say no?" Same even tone, but with a slight waver you barely manage to hear.

"You're happy doing this, aren't you?" you shake your head, already knowing the answer to that question. He may not be happy, but he's supposed to do this; that's answer enough. With both your hands in your lap, you pick at your gloves and meet what you assume is the Mandalorian's gaze. "Besides," you say, squinting your eyes against the sun, "I've had my fill of flying and space."

"You're a pilot." 

You imagine a smile curling at each corner of his mouth and smile to yourself, leaning into his side playfully. Over the months you and he have been partnered together, you've come to recognise a dozen different tones of his voice and that one is by far your favourite; his sense of humour could use some work, but it makes you smile regardless. 

Hypnotised somewhat by the rising sun reflecting the morning light on his helmet, you move your hand carefully to rest on his own, not quite brave enough to intertwine your fingers. "Exactly," you murmur in response, staring at your hand with his.

Gently, slowly, you look up and your eyes catch on the small details of his armour, the various colours and materials, and how human he must be beneath it. "I didn't expect to be doing it for long. Never thought I'd get sick of it but I'm getting older, and I don't know- well, how long until my back gets tired of sleeping on the _Crest_? The rest of my body protests enough, already. And I don't want to make the mistake of hanging around for so long I forgot what it's like on my own."

He's entirely too quiet and it worries you but you leave your hand with his and focus your attention on the stretch of desert in the distance. The morning is going to bring heat with it, that you know for sure. You've been bounty hunting with the Mandalorian for four months and each dawn only serves to bring another ache to your body.

You flex your hands in your gloves, a habit you can't shake, as the wind kicks up sand around you. If it weren't for your hood and mask, the sand would've bitten at your face by now. Even so, the force of the breeze rips back at your hood, pushing it back just enough for your hair to peek out and for the man at your side to acknowledge it.

"That's not practical, you know," he says, and his tone is always so even you can never tell if he's trying to joke around or if he's serious. 

"Whichever planet you leave me on, I'm ditching the mask there, anyway," you try to appease. Even simply thinking, or joking, about leaving hurts and you regret the attempt at conversation immediately. 

The mask and hood aren't an act of cowardice. It's simply you, young though feeling your age more so these days with Mando, running to keep ahead of a past you need to make sure doesn't ever catch up with you. Those people you're running from wouldn't recognise the adult in front of them, regardless, because she is miles from the child she once was with them. You played the coward once, never again. You're not even sure if you'd have it in you to not be brave.

When you accepted the offer to travel with the Mandalorian - who had carried himself with a confidence you found alluring and exciting, and dangerous - you were new to travel in a way that had you finding the universe fresh enough to be inspiring and beautiful, regardless of its ways. Each new planet was a new world unexplored and full of life, each unfamiliar breeze filling your lungs with its unknown composition and caressing your mask, each sunrise warming the small peeks of skin that weren't hidden away.

After each bounty, you'd sit aboard the _Crest_ and close your eyes for sleep, and picture traveling the galaxy with Mando for a time spanning somewhere between forever and always. 

Mere months later, you know you both caught on to your arrangement steadily sizzling out. He's, admittedly, not used to partners and you could never quite make up your mind on whether or not bounty hunting was for you. Now, you know you need to move on and find something for yourself; there are a handful of futures you want with him that will never happen, and one uncertain future on your own that you need to see through. 

Maybe you'll see him again. For your heart's sake, shuddery each time he looks at you, you aren't sure if hoping either way you do or don't is good for you. 

You lean back again and close your eyes. "Are you sure the quarry's here?" you ask, unassuming and tired. The day is already shaping up to be warm and you just want to get back to the _Crest_ and sleep.

Mando shifts slightly, not letting your hand drop from his. "Yes," he says. He's annoyed, that much you know. You doubted him and he's annoyed. 

You sigh. "Sorry, I'm getting antsy. It's hard to sit still for so long."

"Is that why you're leaving?" 

The question just about knocks the air from your lungs. "Lori…"

"Stop," he snaps, passing you the binoculars with his free hand. "I found the quarry. Get up, let's go."

With your hand away from him now and the warm sun beating down on you, you don't let your mind hesitate on what it means that your now lone hand is cold. Gloved and in the desert, and it went cold the moment the Mandalorian let it go. You know if you focus on it, for even the slightest of moments, you might change your mind about leaving.

The quarry doesn't put up much of a fight, and your hands shake the entire way back to the _Crest,_ knowing this time in a few days, you won't have the privilege of finding Mando at your side. You'll be completely alone.

And two days later when you do part, your head is lightened with alcohol. You press your palm to his helmet in a quiet alleyway for a second so short it hardly matters. You close your eyes and listen to the quiet of his breathing right in front of you.

"Let me know if you ever need help," you offer, and imagine he smiles at you. "Or, you know, a bed to sleep on that isn't aboard your Empirical deathtrap."

"You sure I can't change your mind?" his voice is softer than you've ever heard it, breathing muffled through the modulator of his helmet.

"Maybe I'll get sick of sitting around someday but for now, I'm looking forward to resting," you sip from your cup of alcohol, ignoring passing looks. A Mandalorian and a masked woman conspiring close in an alley attract a lot of attention. "You take care, Mando."

He hesitates to say something but must think better of it, and you can almost feel the intensity of his gaze though you can't see his face. "Mando?" he questions, after a tense pause, left hand flexing in his glove.

"Right, sorry," your heart shudders uncomfortably in your chest. "I'll see you around, Lori."

"Until next time," he offers the hand that was fidgeting beneath his glove and you take it, shaking it until he stops and instead gives it a firm squeeze. You return it. 

"This is the Way," you joke, and his laugh crackles through his modulator. Your smile fades, suddenly serious as you choke out a hopeful, "Until next time."

You watch him leave and wait for him to turn, to look at you one last time, but he doesn't. His cape flicks around the corner of a stone building and you fight the instinct to trail after him, the same way you have done for the past two months since you met him. The two of you, always on each other's heels. Until now.

If he wasn't a Mandalorian, you'd have asked him weeks ago to never leave your side. Except he is a Mandalorian and you are a pilot who with every creak of her body in the morning wonders how soon before she's passed her prime. 

You finish your drink after a few moments pass alone in that alleyway, wanting to enjoy your newfound freedom. It's bittersweet that the cost of doing whatever you wanted and being free of getting shot at, came with having to say goodbye to the one person you've seen a future with since you were a child and your future was life with parents you came to learn would only ever let you down. 

You have the whole universe in the palm of your hand and you still see a Mandalorian every time you close her eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading ♡.


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